


The Soulmate Duet

by PhlamingFeonix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Bad Parenting, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Classical Music, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, M/M, Piano, Pop music, Room of Requirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhlamingFeonix/pseuds/PhlamingFeonix
Summary: A selection of moments from the lives of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and how music influenced them and brought them together. Set across a span of 25 years.[Written for Wolfstar Games 2020]
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	The Soulmate Duet

**Author's Note:**

> [Team Sound]  
> Image Prompt 13:  
> 

If you happened to be walking outside number 12 Grimmauld Place, between the hours of two and four on a Friday afternoon, you wouldn’t be able to hear the notes of the piano from the front room, nor the sharp words of the teacher’s voice, nor the occasional stifled sigh of the student. The Blacks were a notoriously private family, and to avoid any detection at all from _dirty Muggles_ , there were silencing charms on every inch of the property. This was a shame in some regard, really, because for the most part the sound of the piano at least was rather charming to listen to. The delicate arpeggios flowed smoothly under the fingers of a young boy neatly balanced out by the chords of the upper part. As his hands flew across the keys, the voice of the music still sang out above the accompaniment even when the piece came to a close with a soft _diminuendo_.

So it was also a shame, then that the boy hated every minute of his lessons. Though he was _encouraged_ to practise every day by his parents, no passion was in the notes that sung throughout the front room. The music did not inspire him. It did not speak to him. For young Sirius Black, it was simply empty notes on a page – instructions to press a key that would hit a string that would play a note. ‘ _100 of the Greatest French Compositions’_ though undoubtedly a valuable technical resource and full of wonderful music to some people, did not contain a single arrangement of any of the new Beatles’ songs, or any other popular band for that matter. That could only be found upstairs hidden in his room as a covert birthday present from his cousin Andromeda.

“Again.”

The teacher’s voice was punctuated by the sharp tapping of her wand on the edge of the piano (causing a few red sparks to shoot out the end). Frustration grated in her voice and a permanent frown seemed plastered on her face, however much she tried to keep it at bay. There was only so much incompetence she could put up with and the wrong notes only seemed to be getting more frequent the more they practised. She’d been personally assured by their mother that the Black children were better than this—after all what was the point of going through childbirth if the child couldn’t be useful in furthering the family’s social standing? It would only be two weeks until the household hosted the Malfoy, Lestrange and Avery families for a winter dinner party and it would be positively _mortifying_ if the entertainment were in any way sub-par. Abraxas Malfoy had been consistently bragging about little Lucius’ skill on the cello…

The Black family were not notorious for their acceptance of Muggle culture, quite the opposite in fact, despite the location of their townhouse in Islington. Nevertheless as with many things, ‘ _Toujours Pur’_ only applied when it suited them, and since wizarding instruments hadn’t really advanced in the last… ever… they were stuck with the popular Muggle piano. Muggle classical composers featured heavily in the chosen repertoire too: Mozart, Chopin, Debussy, Ravel… there was certainly a French bias present, but then the Blacks had historically been a noble family over there. It was only in the last half-dozen generations or so that their presence in England had become more widespread but having brought such a reputation with them their political influence and popularity amongst pureblood communities was immense.

Eventually, the tall grandfather clock in the corner (that would curse any Muggles who tried to wind it up without magic) struck the hour, and with yet another tut hidden behind the fourth chime she dismissed Sirius to his room before dinner. _Good riddance!_ He thought to himself as he jumped his way up the stairs two at a time. He swore to himself on the way that he would never learn to love the piano.

~*~*~*~

Hope Lupin was not a witch. Indeed the Lupin household, despite being comprised of a majority of wizards, did not feature many unusual aspects at all: There were no vegetables chopping themselves in the kitchen, most of the pictures on the walls did not move, and almost none of the books on the bookshelves featured wizard authors. The cellar however was a different matter. At the back of the house, down a narrow corridor stood a large wooden door which shimmered faintly if you looked too closely. The door was heavily protected with a trio of heavy padlocks and reinforced with steel bars which could be slid across from the outside to render it almost impossible to break through. The rest of the room was surrounded by concrete at least 3 inches thick, and to one of the walls were attached a muzzle, a pair of handcuffs (or pawcuffs) and long loops of chain. In the centre of the room was a large wooden block with years of claw-marks scored into its surface in a feeble attempt to make the room less miserable. It had once been padded with material but it was quickly found that a werewolf could tear through that in a matter of minutes, and it was deemed not worth replacing.

9-year-old Remus Lupin was the aforementioned werewolf and though his father was the wizard to carry out all the preparations in the cellar, it was his ma who would comfort him before and afterwards; often she would play him lullabies on the piano, sometimes accompanied by her soft alto voice when he couldn’t sleep. For this reason, Hope Lupin really did have magic—at least to Remus.

On this particular night, it was Chopin’s Berceuse in D Flat Major she was playing—a particularly soothing piece for a troubled couple of days. The pages of the music were old and yellowed with time, but since her eyes barely glanced at them, they were unnecessary really. This piece was one of Remus’ favourites to listen to, even as a toddler before he was turned, so by this point Hope was able to play it from muscle memory alone. As the final notes of the piece faded away, Hope turned quietly on the stool to see her precious boy fast asleep in bed, clutching his blanket softly, his face as of yet unwrinkled from the stresses of adulthood. Peeking out from the top of his pyjamas was a scar on his collarbone that shone in the silvery light of the waning moon. With a stifled sigh she stood and quietly turned the lamp off as she left the room, blowing a kiss as she went.

“How’s our little lad?” came her husband’s voice as she shuffled downstairs to join him in the living room.”

She paused before answering, choosing her response carefully. “He’s settled down now, I think it was a tough moon for the poor dear.”

“It’s always a tough moon, he’ll never handle Hogwarts…” he responded with a grumble under his breath. He didn’t mean to start an argument. He really didn’t. But this was a discussion they had every month, and tempers always flared around this time.

“Maybe, if you didn’t insist on heading off on your _hare-brained_ schemes to far-flung corners of the globe, he would know you were here for him and they wouldn’t be so rough!” she cut in sharply.

Lyall glared, his usually serene face becoming blotchy and red with frustration as he struggled to keep his temper. “I am here for him! Why do you think I’m trying to find a cure!”

“There is no cure out there Lyall! And certainly not from some _crackpot_ shaman in Bolivia. _If_ there’ll be one—and we both know there are certain things even magic can’t do—it’ll be from some modern doct—Healer or Potioneer! In the meantime, the best thing you can do is spend some time with your only child!”

They froze together as her voice rose close to a shout at the end. One of the things they had always tried to do was make sure they never bothered Remus with their arguments. It would hurt him too much to know they were often about him, though at this point they were almost certain he could have a reasonable guess.

“I’m going to bed,” she said shortly. And with that, Lyall was once again left alone by the crackling fire. Upstairs, Remus was still fast asleep—tonight would not be one of those times he had to quickly sneak back to his bedroom after listening in to the fight out of curiosity.

~*~*~*~

The familiar notes echoed around the dingy wooden shack, almost drowning out the fierce whistling of the wind that cut through the walls, and for a minute Remus was transported back to his childhood home—the sound of his ma’s voice washing over him. But the music was off-key—noticeably so, and it wasn’t the soft Welsh lilt of his ma, but a deep hum that sounded suspiciously like Sirius Black. He opened his eyes. It was Black! At once, Sirius stopped playing and turned around to look at him. He glanced down at his pale chest and noticed a large collection of deep cuts running across it. It seemed the wolf was getting more violent as it grew, but then that was something he’d suspected for a while—his father had been forced to add extra support to the doorway into the cellar the last time he was home for the holidays at the fear it would break. Perhaps more awkward in the short term was that his clothes were stored with his wand in the locked chest at the back of the shack to avoid damage. He was naked and alone in a room with Sirius Black.

“Don’t move, I’ve tried a couple of spells to spot the bleeding, but I’ve always been terrible with household stuff really. Sorry about that…” Sirius remarked casually, seemingly completely unabashed at the situation

“Get away! You can’t be in here—it’s too dangerous!” he shouted, trying but failing (given his injured chest and tired limbs) to scramble himself as far away from the other boy as possible, whilst also discretely hiding his groin and struggling to keep his face from flaming as scarlet as the Gryffindor common-room.

“It’s perfectly safe now the moon’s down—I checked when sunrise was today specifically! I wanted to be here with you when you got up. You mentioned your mother always used to play the piano for you too. I thought it would be nice to wake up to.”

Remus paused. Though the other Marauders had known he was a werewolf for nearly two years now, he was still loathe to bring up the topic with them, fearing it set him apart as different. But still he was touched by the gesture. Sirius didn’t talk much about his family either, but as he gradually opened up it was clear that his memories of the piano hadn’t been happy ones. That he was willing to try for Remus said a lot about their friendship. “… Thank you,” he managed to utter out, “even if that does sound a little bit creepy.”

Sirius chuckled softly, avoiding eye contact by glancing around the room as if inspecting his surroundings. Remus supposed he really was a little awkward after all—unusual for Sirius.

Suddenly a tapping of footsteps shook them both out of their reverie. “Quick, hide—it’s Madam Pomfrey!” he hissed under his breath. “She can’t know you were here.”

Sirius, in his typical confident and charming manner, simply grinned and lifted up the invisibility cloak that Remus hadn’t noticed lay beside him. With an overdramatic swoosh he was covered and a heartbeat later, a harried looking Madam Pomfrey burst through the door, immediately hurrying to Remus’ side and muttering the initial stages of some complex healing spells, unlocking and Summoning his belongings, then conjuring a floating stretcher with practised ease, falling into the routine she had perfected over the last three years.

“How was the moon, my dear?” she asked.

He tilted his head, a small smirk playing across his face as he answered. “You know, it started out a little challenging but once it was all over, I suppose it was quite peaceful after all— _perhaps it’ll be like that more often from now on.”_

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus noticed the sheets of parchment with the carefully transcribed notes of the Berceuse disappearing from the piano stand and could picture a smiling Sirius Black hidden underneath the cloak. Maybe the moons might not be so bad if he a friend with him when he woke up from now on. As the Matron left with her charge, she also didn’t notice how the door stayed open slightly longer as they walked through into the dark tunnel.

~*~*~*~

First, he’d considered asking Regulus for help. Certainly, he would have the technical ability to help Remus, and despite their differences (and different houses) he rather liked the witty Slytherin. Something told him they would’ve probably ended up as friends if they were in the same house. Indeed, since the young Black had become a prefect that year, Regulus was often around when Remus was running his rounds (conveniently scheduled by James to avoid the full moons).

Next, he’d thought about asking one of his friends in Ravenclaw. Throughout OWLs, he’d fell into a group of them who would often convene in the library in the evenings to power through some homework. Though the other Marauders were by far his closest friends, sometimes their silliness (and disregard for the rules) got a little too much for him. There were a pair of Muggle-born twins he’d met, who before joining Hogwarts had probably been on track to play at a professional level in multiple instruments. Even now with the wonder of the wizarding world at their fingertips, they could still often be found in one of the music practice rooms or chatting with Professor Flitwick about music – from Ska to Stubby Boardman.

Finally, he had just about settled on asking Lily for help before he realised that she had given no indication of ever being able to play the piano. Indeed, when he’d approached her about it she had laughed uproariously (drawing the attention of half the common-room), then immediately apologised after his face turned beet-red. The only other possibility was Sirius himself, but that wasn’t really an option this time round.

Fortunately for Remus, the founders of Hogwarts were exceptionally gifted witches and wizards, and whoever had created the Room of Requirement had endowed it with an excellent selection of teach-yourself piano books, and a whole array of exceedingly ornate grand pianos including some which would provide helpful critique on his technique or glow red when he’d made a wrong note. Plus the room had expanded and featured enough soft decor to have some rather impressive acoustics. It had been two weeks of Remus sneaking out in his time off between N.E.W.T. work and prefect duties and moons and all the other shenanigans they usually got up to. At least he didn’t have to take the map with him – the Room was unplottable and even they hadn’t figured out a way around that yet.

Sirius had been trying to teach him piano for years. Even before they started dating, it had been a way for them to connect – trying to replace Sirius’ unhappy memories with joyful ones. Ones where you could let the music wash over you without the risk of a sharp slap or an unkind word. It had been during one of those times, playing on the old untuned piano in the Shrieking Shack after a full moon, that he’d first realised how hopelessly in love he was with Sirius. Now it was their 1st official anniversary (since going public with their relationship), and Remus was determined to do something personal for Sirius. Perfecting a rendition of Queen’s “ _We are the Champions”_ seemed like a fitting song.

As Remus stepped out of the Room after one of his final practices (the anniversary was in two days) he crashed headlong into Sirius in the corridor.

“There you are Moons—I’ve been looking all over for you—what’s that?” he said pointing to the parchment clutched in Remus’ hand.

“Uh, nothing—just some N.E.W.T. stuff” he replied, stuffing it hastily into his bag and wrapping his arm around Sirius’ waist. “But what’s up with you—why’re you searching for me?”

“Oh, I uh… just wanted to ask you some questions about the Charms work. And also point out that James and Peter are out at the Quidditch pitch currently, meaning the dorm room is free if we wanted to work in there.”

He nodded slowly. “Uh huh, I’m sure that’s _exactly_ your intention for the dorm room” he said with a sly sideways look at Sirius. “Guess we should be getting a move on then…” and with that they were running down the corridor, giggles bouncing off the walls behind them.

~*~*~*~

The war had been tough on all of them. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of Remus to complain about it – after all it had given Albus Dumbledore reason to employ him, when in almost any other circumstance he would have been left to rely on the generosity of his friends, unemployable to all but the maddest of wizards. As it was, most of the (rather meagre) stipend he received went on food for Sirius and himself. Sirius owned the flat they shared thanks to the inheritance from his generous Great Uncle Alphard and had refused all attempts at Remus paying him rent. Reluctantly, Remus had agreed, but on the condition that he by all of the food for the two of them. Even then, whenever he was away on missions for the order (as he often was, for weeks at a time), he was convinced Sirius used his own money to get takeout, despite Remus clearly leaving a small pile of Galleons for him to use.

He thought bitterly of James and Lily. It was uncharacteristic of Remus to think ill of his friends, having lived all his life learning to accept his suffering as inevitable, and indeed being grateful for everything his friends did for him. Nevertheless, right now he was jealous of how easy their relationship was. In times of need, they drew together and relied on each other more and more. He and Sirius on the other hand hadn’t seen each other in weeks thanks to their overlapping mission schedules. Even when they did see each other they barely spoke. It had gotten so bad that he’d left early the last time to run with a werewolf pack up in Scotland after a particularly nasty fight. They’d both accused each other of dishonesty and secrecy, along with a lot of other _personal_ things that they’d both previously agreed never to talk about again. Most of him was desperate to make up and apologise—the flat felt so empty without Sirius’ characteristic laughter echoing around, and he missed seeing the crinkle of his lover’s eyes as he smiled wholeheartedly. He hoped Sirius felt the same way, but compared to James and Lily, with their _perfect_ marriage and _perfect_ relationship and _perfect_ child, it seemed increasingly impossible they would make it through the war in one piece.

He thought back to the wedding – probably the last time he’d felt happy for more than an hour. Admittedly, a lot of that had been the bonus of seeing his friends while not listening to grisly reports of how many more deaths and battles had happened in the last few days. At the time, he’d thought of the possibility of proposing to Sirius – even going so far as to imagine the kind of ring he would buy (nothing too gaudy or golden – anything that would remind Sirius of his family and their expensive taste was probably a no-go). But now he understood that was never going to happen. They were simply two broken individuals in a relationship of convenience because nobody else would be stupid enough (or queer enough) to be with them.

He often played the piano (of course their flat had a piano—Sirius was _loaded_ with gold) to break his cycle of depressive thoughts at times like this. The association with his ma from home, as well as Sirius back in the golden era of Hogwarts set his heart at rest and his mind at ease. Not feeling in the mood to search through the sheet music for something peaceful, he settled on one of the few things he could play without it— _We are the Champions_. But just after he had finished the first chorus he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

_Tap-tap-tap thud._

Three short knocks followed by a loud one – the signal.

Cautiously Remus stood up from the piano stool and withdrew the wand concealed in his inside pocket. They could never be too careful—Mad-eye Moody had shouted “constant vigilance” at them until it was all but tattooed on the inside of their skull. Standing carefully to the side, he opened the letterbox so the stranger could hear his voice.

“What’s the only thing Sirius Black has sworn an oath on?”

“That I’m up to no good,” came the reply. A tense pause followed.

“Where was our first kiss?”

Remus blinked—they didn’t often use this question, perhaps because it was a painful reminder of the intimacy they used to have at Hogwarts—when even with the looming threat of war once they left, their biggest worries were still when the Transfiguration essay was due in and whether there would be Yorkshire puddings for dinner. Nevertheless, it was certainly secure, since they had kept their dating a secret for a long time at Hogwarts, even to the other Marauders.

“Honeydukes cellar.”

There was an amusing story behind that one, and the corners of Remus’ mouth almost twitched in amusement as he remembered the situation. Both of them had separately snuck out in the middle of the night to try and bring back a stash of sweets—Remus for himself and Sirius as a gift to him. They’d ended up just staying in the cellar all night, gorging themselves on far too many sweets (thank Merlin for his werewolf metabolism) and laughing away. It was when Remus had so casually reached up to brush some sugar off the corner of Sirius’ mouth that the pair realised the chemistry between them might be more than just friendly.

Shaking himself out of memory lane, Remus gradually lowered his wand and pulled open the door to let his partner inside. His hair was long and unkempt, his nails long and ragged and coated with dirt as if it had been a while since they were cut. On his leg was a large gash that appeared to have been oozing some kind of blue viscous substance. A curt nod and a grunted ‘ _hey’_ were all the greeting he got before Sirius brushed past him and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind him with a loud clunk.

Remus settled himself back down at the piano, his fingers wandering over the keys almost subconsciously as his mind wandered onto thoughts of what his parents would’ve been doing right now. He rarely spoke to them anymore, since it was recommended that members of the Order shouldn’t have too much contact with their families. Probably reasonable, given the risk he could be putting them in (especially if someone followed him there). On the other hand, the small cynical part of Remus (which had truthfully never been that small) thought it might be a ploy from Dumbledore to keep them occupied with missions. If they saw the loved ones they were missing, it might remind them what they were risking—particularly since Remus wasn’t a Muggle-born. Dumbledore really did have some questionable morals. His special interest in Remus had always seemed odd until it was clear the man was mostly interested in using him as a spy amongst the werewolf packs.

Suddenly, he felt a warm palm over his left hand. Stifling the urge to jump and pull his wand out, he glanced to the left to see Sirius’ long fingers looping over his, playing the notes in time. Slowly he pulled his hand away to leave them finishing the piece in tandem. But instead of stopping, the dark-haired man transitioned seamlessly into the beginning of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , a rare smile lighting up his face as his right hand played the opening chords. Remus recognised it as one of Sirius’ favourites—possibly his absolute favourite. They’d had many a happy time in the Shrieking Shack playing it on the hilariously out of tune piano there, occasionally interspersed with breaks to down some foaming Butterbeer from their stash there.

He leant his head on Sirius’ shoulder, its familiar warmth comforting after so long apart. It was precisely then that he made a stupid mistake. Drawing a breath, he asked casually “how was the mission?” It was the wrong thing to say.

Sirius froze, a stormy expression flickered across his face as if he were just now remembering the situation they were in. Slamming down the lid on the keyboard he abruptly stood up and turned away.

“I don’t want to talk about it _,”_ he replied in a low voice. Though there was no ‘ _with you’_ added for emphasis, Remus knew exactly what was meant. As swift as he swept into the flat, Sirius grabbed his coat and the keys to his motorcycle and left, slamming the door on his way out. Once again, Remus was left alone to wonder where it all went wrong as a solitary tear began to slide its way down his cheek.

~*~*~*~

If you happened to be walking outside number 12, Grimmauld Place at approximately 6pm on the 28th of December 1995 you wouldn’t be able to hear the notes of the piano from the front room. The Order of the Phoenix was a notoriously secret organisation, and to avoid any detection at all from the minions of Voldemort (or indeed the Ministry), there were silencing charms across every inch of the property. Not to mention the Muggle-repelling wards, the identity checks on everybody entering and leaving, anti-Apparition wards on the portion of street outside the front, and a Fidelius charm cast over the entire property. This was a shame in some regard, really, because for the most part the sound of the piano at least was rather charming to listen to. The familiar chords flowing smoothly under the fingers of a youngish man, aged beyond his years and clearly quite musically talented.

Harry Potter was not a death eater, nor a Muggle, nor very musically talented but for this Christmas he was at Grimmauld Place over the holidays and so could hear the tinkling of the ivories through the door as he explored a dusty part of the house in an attempt to find his godfather. Sirius had been lurking around the place, often hiding from people to avoid talking to anyone at all. Indeed, since he knew the house (and all its hiding places) so well, it was often very difficult to track him down.

The closing chords of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ lingered in the air as Sirius turned to face Harry, silently collecting up the pieces of paper with notes scrawled on them from when Sirius had written down his own arrangement by ear back in Hogwarts. Though most his belongings had been confiscated or destroyed after his arrest, it happened that a lot of them had been kept at his flat in London. Certain small items with fond memories attached had been saved by Lupin when he moved out to try and find other work, and subsequently returned 13 years later when Sirius had lain low at his place in preparation for restarting the order. Now the copies of ‘ _100 of the Greatest French Compositions’_ had been thrown out over the summer as part of the cleaning spree, and a selection of pop music arrangements from the 60s and 70s (often featuring hand-drawn hearts and cheesy love messages in the margins) had replaced them in the music room.

“Sirius?” Harry spoke up softly. “What are you doing in here—Mrs Weasley said it’s nearly time for dinner. What is this room anyway—I don’t think I’ve been in here before?”

His godfather smiled wistfully, though it could have been at the thought of food given how little he’d eaten that day, and gestured around the room. “This is where I had to practise the piano as a child. Not an unreasonable skill to have, admittedly, but my teacher was a vile woman—far too strict and far too demanding—so I hated it.”

“Then why are you playing it now?”

He smiled at the question. “It was Moony—Remus, who taught me to love it. I used to play for him on the piano in the shack after the full moons—I often find it’s nicer to be playing for another person. Then sometimes we would do duets of popular songs from the time, that’s how we’ve got all this music actually—I can’t tell you how excited I was whenever new songs came out from the greatest bands at the time! All Muggle ones, naturally—Moony often said that I never really liked wizarding music apart from Stubby Boardman—and even then only because he looks a bit like me…

The door creaked open once more, and it was indeed Lupin who entered.

“I thought I might find you here Sirius—Molly told me to find you—tea’s nearly ready.”

Sirius chuckled at Molly’s persistence. Despite their differences of opinion, she really was the mother hen of the order—making sure everybody was alive and healthy and well-fed. “I was just telling Harry here about our duets on the piano. Think you could remember one of them?”

Remus’ eyebrow quirked upwards but his mouth settled into a grin, as if he were used to Sirius’ challenges. “It must’ve been years since I’ve played, but I could probably remember a couple we used to sing along to as we played,” he answered with a smile.

As he sat down on the stool, Sirius reordered the pages he’d collected and moved his hands to the opening chord, a rare sparkle in his eye that Harry hadn’t seen for many days now. As the opening notes began to sound, he could tell they were falling into a rhythm developed over a decade before, and he decided to let it last as long as possible. Making no sound at all, he slipped out of the room to tell Mrs Weasley that the two troublemakers would be late for dinner—they were too busy being happy together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed. It was good fun taking part and writing this, and many thanks to the excellent Mod squad for organising the fest!
> 
> *  
>  **Mod Note**
> 
> Please vote on this work! [VOTING FORM](https://forms.gle/cH2WNKvWS8uCj1DY8)


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